


metamorphosis

by tzrbup



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Trauma Recovery, dont mind me!, kind of, really self indulgent sorry! i just love june
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzrbup/pseuds/tzrbup
Summary: She's still June, but she thinks maybe the definition of June has changed a little bit.





	1. somewhere inbetween

June knows she is brave. It would be impossible not to, because people won’t stop telling her. Ever since she and Isaak emerged from the quarry, she is greeted everywhere she goes by reverent stares and _yes-of-course-June_ s and _such-a-brave-girl_ s. So yes, she knows she’s brave, and that’s the problem; she doesn’t want to be brave. She wants to be eight. She’s finding fulfilling that desire to be more and more difficult, though. The other children are kind to her, but they are afraid of her. She is too serious, too whip-smart, has seen too much for them to understand her, so they run and shriek in the midday sun without her. June realizes without much fanfare that these are the first happy screams she has heard for a while. She watches from the distance, cloaked in the cool shadow cast by the statue of herself.

 

—

 

The adults don’t know how to handle her either; after seven years of limited omniscience, she knows them perhaps better than they know themselves, and there is something startled and shattered about their smiles the second after she references something she shouldn’t know. They are cautious and jumpy around her, confused, like they’re not sure if she is a child or an adult. Sometimes she doesn’t know, either.

 

—

 

After the first two months, she stops trying. Despite being free of her bubble, she cannot break this strange and intangible new barrier between herself and everyone else. So she reads all the fiction books at the library (some several times over, because they can’t exactly get new books at the moment) and some of the nonfiction too (she is particularly interested in caterpillars for a while, and then jellyfish). She goes for walks in the woods, strays off the paths and gets pleasantly lost both in the trees and in the sensation of the sun warming her skin. She climbs the trees at the edge of the stonefruit farm and lets the sticky juice run down her chin and stain her dress and doesn’t even mind like she used to. She splashes her bare feet in the creek, crouches to watch the minnows (she is just as startled by her reflection as they are by her shadow—sometimes she feels the phantom ache in her joints and tightness in her skin and forgets). She rolls on her stomach down grassy hills, laughs even though she’s the only one to hear it, falls asleep in patches of sun and doesn’t wake up until the sun is dipping below the horizon and the _chip-chip-chip-chip-chip-pweeee_  of some unseen bird rouses her. Though she rarely sees him, Isaak usually leaves dinner out for her, and he keeps the small cabin stocked with food, clothes, blankets. He does not ask her where she goes all day. She thinks maybe he, too, is afraid of her now.

 

—

 

When she jolts awake at night, silent but shaking, visions of crumbling earth and flames in her mind and her fingers struggling to clasp a cup that is not there, she aches like a piece of her has been taken away. When she had picked up the chalice those many years ago, there had been no struggle; she greeted the voice in her head like a friend. She trusted the protector, knew that nothing he made would harm her. It was this knowledge that buoyed her when she started the loops, when that ethereal voice joined her own thoughts in their chorus: “Wait for him. He will know what to do. Keep Refuge safe until he comes back.” (Sometimes floating in the bubble reminded her of warm evenings, bright and oversaturated by memory, that she spent laughing as he tossed her in the air, her father watching from the rocking chair on the porch). For seven years she’d waited hand-in-hand with that voice, and she can still feel the places in her mind where it had not so much changed her as embraced her, left her with the barest sliver of the white-bright energy it was made of. The cup is gone, and June is June and only June again, but sometimes in the shade of the woods when the sun is at its peak she lays on her stomach across a tree branch and focuses her attention on an unassuming brown chrysalis, and the light inside her hums as the cocoon splits open and a fully-formed butterfly takes to the air without pausing to dry its wings. She’s still June, but she thinks maybe the definition of June has changed a little bit.


	2. daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something comes over her, then, some impulse that she cannot ignore, different from but adjacent to the restless stagnancy she has become accustomed to.

On some afternoons, June feels something in her stomach that she cannot name, something sour and heavy that mirrors the unshakeable lump in her throat. On those days she doesn’t go to the woods, but the frustrated restlessness in her bones feels stifled and claustrophobic in the library; being indoors at all on these days makes her tremble and swear she can hear the faint roar of rock crumbling. So she packs three or four books into a satchel that used to be her father’s and treks to the outskirts of town until she reaches the bubble. She always nods a hello to the three heroes even if she’s not sure they can really see her, and then she settles in the grass at the protector’s feet and stays there until the fluttering wings in her chest calm down. If she’s slept there once or twice, the starry sky above her and comforting presence behind her lulling her into a blessedly dreamless sleep, no one is the wiser.

 

—

 

It is on a cloudy night a month and three days before June’s ninth birthday that she startles awake from another dream of gnashing teeth and tortured wails. She is momentarily disoriented; it is pitch black outside save for the stars and moon and the faint glow of the barrier, but she could have sworn that the call of a bird and the rustle of wings is what pulled her from her slumber. She rubs the pink crescent indents in her palms and sternly tries to control her breathing, slow her heartbeat, blink back the sting behind her eyes. She is suddenly angry with herself, with this irrational and childlike fear that pursues her. It is over, she has told herself so many times. It is done and it will never happen again and there is no sense in continuing to dwell on it. The rest of the town seems to have moved on for the most part, she reasons, and she never even died, so what right has she to complain?

Something comes over her, then, some impulse that she cannot ignore, different from but adjacent to the restless stagnancy she has become accustomed to. She is out of bed and pulling on her boots before she even tries to put words to the feeling, padding quietly past Isaak’s closed bedroom door even though she doubts he would try to stop her. The stars seem to greet her as she steps out of the front door, and she exhales a breathless little laugh, a private sound that belongs to her. The _night_  belongs to her, she muses; there is not a soul to be seen, and her footsteps on the dirt road echo across the grass like a heartbeat. Here on this road in the dark in a too-big jacket and a stained blue dress she is June who is eight years old and likes reading and caterpillars and the color orange and pigtails and is allergic to cat hair and never learned to jump rope despite her best efforts, not capital-T The June who is painted on the side of the clock tower in a yellow dress without a torn hem holding a cup that is not hers in hands with nails that are not bitten.

She doesn’t let herself hesitate when she reaches the stairs to the quarry. This is something she needs to do. She needs to go say goodbye to The June. She holds her breath like she’s about to jump into the river, puffs out her cheeks and scrunches her nose and imagines that her father is waiting somewhere below to catch her. She reaches for the railing— _hold tight, June, and don’t run, my daddy always told us most household accidents happen on the stairs_ —and climbs down carefully, lets out a harsh breath when she reaches the bottom.

She makes it to within about ten feet of the entrance to the quarry before she realizes that there are heavy footsteps behind her. Immediately, she goes rigid, that sliver of light inside her humming and battering itself against her ribcage (the grasshoppers’ chirping and the sigh of the wind in the trees stutters and skips like a scratched record in time with her racing heart, pause unpause pause unpause pause—)

“Whozzat?” says a startled voice from behind her, and she comes back to herself, suddenly aware of a lantern light casting long shadows on the rock walls as it draws closer. She turns, blinking the spots from her eyes, and makes eye contact with Cassidy. “Well hey, lil’ sprout!” Cassidy says with a confused grin. “What’re you doin’ out here at this hour? Ain’t’cha afraid of the dark?” 

June is stunned into silence. She cannot remember the last time anyone asked her if she was afraid of anything, and to her horror she finds her eyes filling with tears. Cassidy’s brow creases with concern and she crouches to June’s level, sets the lantern down next to her. “Hey, Junie.” she says softly. June stares at her feet, bites her lip, clenches her fists as she tries to will back the tears because how selfish would it be to cry for her own silly struggles when she wasn’t even able to cry when she watched her father die? “Are you okay?” Cassidy asks, uncharacteristically serious, and places a large, warm hand on June’s shoulder that she can’t help but lean into. That’s it, then; there's a feeling like a bubble bursting in her chest and she crumples with a shuddering sob. Cassidy catches her effortlessly, pulls her against her chest and cages her in her strong arms in a way that makes the sour knot in June’s stomach loosen just a little. “Shh, shh, shh,” says Cassidy, but it’s more for the sake of the sound than to silence her. June clings to Cassidy’s jacket with white knuckles, as if she’ll fade away otherwise. Cassidy doesn’t comment on the way June is soaking her shirt with tears or try to ask what’s wrong, just keeps rubbing her back and _shh_ ing into her hair. After a beat, Cassidy scoops June off the ground and stands, hooking the lantern with one finger as an afterthought. “C’mon, Junie. Let’s getcha taken care of.” June nods slightly where her face is buried in Cassidy’s shoulder.

 

—

 

The sun is just barely cresting the horizon when Cassidy nudges her front door open with her foot. June’s full-body sobs have stopped, reduced to quiet sniffles muffled by the collar of Cassidy’s jacket. Cassidy shifts her to one hip as she toes her boots off, hangs the lantern on the hook next to the door that June recognizes instantly. The front room of the Elder’s Manor is familiar but not; the paintings and chairs that her father had picked out and the coffee table that she tripped over the day she got the scar on her chin and her collection of odd rocks on the mantle are mostly gone, replaced by worn armchairs draped in afghans woven like spiderwebs and unfamiliar paintings and a little jar of root beer barrels on the coffee table. June’s eyes flit down the hall, pausing on what used to be her room, the study, her father’s room. 

The door to her father’s room—what used to be her father’s room, she corrects herself—opens quietly and Ren pads into the hall, barefoot and bleary-eyed and wearing a shirt three sizes too large.

“Hey, Cassie. You’re home early.” she murmurs, and it’s such a simple phrase but her tone coupled with the morning stillness and the pinkish light just starting to creep between the curtains makes June feel like she’s interrupting something private. Like this is Ren, not The Ren who keeps the Davy Lamp fun and flirty, and this is Cassidy— _Cassie_ —instead of The Cassidy, former laughingstock and current town elder. She is afraid to move or speak lest she shatter this stained-glass moment, but Cassidy takes the leap for her, shifting the hip June is on towards Ren and ruffling June’s hair. 

“I picked up a burr while I was out, see?” she says. The moment isn’t broken the way June is used to; instead of being on the outside looking in, Cassidy adds her to the equation as easy as breathing, like she’s been there all along. Like she fits.

Something warm and overwhelming spreads in her chest and steals her breath before she can speak, so she lifts her head off of Cassidy’s shoulder and smiles shyly at Ren.

Outside, a familiar birdcall welcomes the sun.

 

—

 

June is seated on a stool at the counter of Ren and Cassidy’s kitchen, swinging her feet and watching the two women. There is an almost choreographed, abstract beauty to the way they move around each other, thick with familiarity and affection. Cassidy touches the small of Ren’s back lightly as she slides past her and reaches up to grab three plates, and in turn Ren ducks under her arm and crosses to rummage through a drawer of utensils. Every now and then one of them looks up and meets June’s eyes and smiles without any of the rough edges she’s become so used to, and that feeling in her chest sparks and expands until she can barely breathe.

Ren turns off the stove, finally, and places thick, fluffy pancakes on the three plates. She and Cassidy take their seats as Ren sets a plate down in front of each of them as well as a huge jug of syrup. June’s stomach growls without her permission at the sight of a warm, home-cooked meal, and Ren giggles.

“I’m flattered, Junie! Wait ’til you taste ‘em, though. It’s not _my_  recipe, but I’d swear on the entire pantheon that it’s the best out there.” Obediently, June drizzles a generous puddle of syrup over her stack and takes a curious bite. Ren is absolutely right; this is the best pancake she’s ever had, and the best meal she’s eaten for a while. It must show on her face, because Ren giggles, and then so does Cassidy, and June can tell they aren’t laughing at her because she’s laughing too without even really knowing why, her legs swinging faster and faster.

“So hey, lil’ one,” Cassidy says through a mouthful of pancake. “Does Isaak know you’re out and about?” 

June furrows her brow. “No.” The ‘Why would he?’ is unspoken. There’s a brief silence where both of them are staring at her, their expressions oddly dismayed for reasons she can’t understand, and then Ren looks at Cassidy with a sudden spark in her eye. A slow smile spreads across Cassidy’s face, soft and tinged with something—maybe hope? She turns back to look at June.

“Junie, we got an idea to run by you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, again!!! this fic has been a blessing to write because it's very talkative; as i'm going about my day pieces of it just sort of Appear fully formed. this chapter is a bit more dialogue-y than the last one, which i'm a bit nervous about to be honest because i am Much less comfortable writing actual dialogue than internal monologues. i hope it reads okay and true to character!!  
> this chapter is unbeta'd, so if you notice any errors feel free to let me know so i can fix it.
> 
> as always, feedback is super appreciated! i promise to send intangible cheek smooches if you leave me a comment. <3


	3. milestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy adds her to the equation as easy as breathing, like she’s been there all along. Like she fits.

It doesn’t take much convincing for Isaak to agree. In fact, he looks almost relieved as Cassidy and Ren help June pack her few belongings into boxes, a fraction of seven years’ worth of tension bleeding out of his shoulders. Cassidy and Ren walk ahead of her to the road and wait while she stops on the porch and turns to face Isaak. He fidgets under her steady gaze, startling slightly when she takes one of his large hands into her own.

“Thank you for looking after me,” she starts, and his face twists with guilt. He starts to shake his head, but she continues before he can. “Some things can’t be helped. You can’t... you can't change the past. I would know.” She pats his hand and steps back. “Bye, Uncle Isaak.” she says, and turns to join Ren and Cassidy.

“Bye, June.” she hears him say softly.

 

—

 

Life with Ren and Cassidy is different, to say the least. They move June’s things into the guest room, which happens to be June’s old room. She doesn’t expect it to surprise her, but the first time she walks in after they’ve carefully unpacked her belongings it nearly knocks the wind out of her. The last time she was in this room it looked almost exactly the way it does now; worn rug on the floor, the butterfly quilt she’s had since she was a baby draped on the bed, warm late afternoon sunlight dripping honey-gold through the curtains. The only major differences are that then she could hear Isaak and her father’s voices from the kitchen laughing jovially, and that she was wearing her brand new yellow dress, only she’d snagged it and torn the hem and she was so upset it was hard to breathe so she’d taken off for the quarry, intending to sit in the quiet dark for a while until the fluttering in her chest calmed down, only then— 

There’s a hand on her shoulder and she opens her eyes to find that she is sitting on the floor with her knees tucked against her chest. Ren is crouched in front of her, golden eyes wide with concern as her mouth moves. June squints, trying to shake away some of the cotton in her head.

“Junie?” Ren says again, and this time June hears her, muffled like she’s talking through a thick blanket. June does her best to meet Ren’s eyes and leans into the hand on her shoulder like a lifeline. Ren hesitates for a moment and then reaches out with her other hand to reel June into her chest. June goes limply, curling herself as small as she can. Ren shifts again, scooping her into her lap, and strokes her long fingers over the back of June’s head. The contact is grounding; the world’s spinning slows and the haze over her thoughts begins to lift. She sags against Ren, suddenly exhausted. Ren’s hand in her hair moves to her back, tracing patterns that whittle away at the panic clouding her thoughts bit by bit and leaving a warm, sleepy contentment in its place. She yawns and Ren chuckles and murmurs something in Undercommon. June doesn’t notice her eyes slipping closed, but within minutes she is fast asleep with her cheek pressed into the crook of Ren’s neck.

 

—

 

Contact is something June guesses she didn’t know she missed, but once she realizes that Cassidy and Ren are willing to give it to her she seeks it out almost constantly. She sits between Ren’s knees in the morning and lets the drow pull her hair into pigtails and twists and intricate braids, skips close to Cassidy in the backyard so that she’ll scoop her up and toss her, shrieking with laughter, over one of her wide shoulders. Best of all, when she wakes up from another nightmare, she simply pads down the hall and curls herself quietly between her two new guardians, one of whom usually wakes up just enough to drape an arm over her and nestle her in close like a missing puzzle piece.

 

—

 

June wakes up on the morning of her ninth birthday to the sound of excited giggling and shushing from outside her door. She smiles and rubs her eyes; whatever Ren and Cassidy are up to, she’ll find out soon. Sure enough, her door eases open slowly and Ren tiptoes exaggeratedly around it before freezing at the sight of June sitting up and grinning at her. Cassidy bumps into her back and Ren nearly drops the tray she’s carrying.

“Wh—Oh!” Cassidy says. Ren digs an elbow into her side and clears her throat meaningfully, and the two of them launch into a spirited rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’  June sinks back into her pillows, her cheeks sore from the force of her smile (she wonders idly if you can get callouses from smiling; surely in this last month she would have developed some).

With a dramatic bow, Ren places the tray on June’s lap. It is laden with delicious-smelling breakfast foods, most notably the pancakes that have become June’s favorite. Cassidy and Ren settle on the rug next to the bed with their own food, chattering excitedly about their plans for the day, and the light in June’s chest burns with the desire to save this moment forever.

After breakfast Ren jumps to her feet, practically squealing with excitement, and demands that no one move before scurrying out of the room. She returns moments later clutching two parcels wrapped in colorful tissue, which she sets gingerly on the carpet in front of June.

“Open them, open them, open them!” Ren giggles, her hands flapping with enthusiasm that she can’t contain. “The green one first!” Her mood is contagious, and June feels a flutter of anticipation as she carefully pulls away the paper. Inside is a small, June-sized pair of sturdy overalls with “JUNIOR DEPUTY” shakily embroidered on the left breast pocket.

“Figured you’d need an official uniform if you were gonna keep comin’ on patrol with me,” Cassidy says sheepishly. June runs her fingers over the embroidery softly. “It’s maybe not the most—not the prettiest, but—“ Cassidy is cut off when June lunges forward and throws her arms around Cassidy’s neck. Cassidy catches her with an exaggerated _oof_  and a laugh, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“I love it.” June says truthfully into Cassidy’s neck.

“Okay! Okay, okay, next one!” Ren blurts finally, an enormous grin stretching her cheeks as she thrusts a blue package into June’s chest. Cassidy chuckles fondly at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm. Ren hides her smile behind her fists as she watches June unwrap the parcel. Sitting in her lap is a set of watercolors, the colors so vibrant that her surroundings seem almost dull in comparison. “You’re always lookin’ at things real close, and I thought maybe you’d wanna be able to keep lookin’ at ‘em later!” Ren explains. June smiles, eyes as bright as the palette in her hands.

“Thank you, Ren. Thank you both.” All three of them know that she’s not just talking about the gifts.

 

—

 

The day passes in a haze of warm sunshine and laughter and grass tickling the backs of June’s knees. The three of them take a long, winding walk through the woods (June points out all her favorite spots to read and the best places to hide and watch rabbits and where to stick your feet in the creek without getting too muddy) with a break in the middle to have a picnic in a clearing. Afterwards, they lay on their backs on the blanket and tell stories and laugh until Ren notices the sun edging down and says they should head home for birthday dinner. ‘Home’ rolls off her tongue easily; home for all of them, like she’s forgotten June was ever not a part of her and Cassidy’s lives. Cassidy swings June up onto her shoulders and they set off back towards the house—towards _home_ , June thinks. Towards home.

 

—

 

Paloma is waiting at her front gate when they pass her house, two boxes in her pudgy arms. She falls in step with them easily, chattering idly to everyone and no one. When they reach the Elder’s Manor, she sets her bigger box on the counter and then hops into one of the kitchen chairs and slides the other box to June.

“Oh, you didn’t have to—“ June starts, but Paloma shushes her firmly. 

“No, no. We will see much more of each other soon; I must butter you up!” She winks conspiratorially. June opens the box cautiously, unsure what to expect. Folded inside is an intricately patterned shawl, soft and clearly well-loved. June pulls it out and wraps it over her shoulders experimentally; the fabric is light, just sheer enough for light to shine through it, and for a moment when she shakes it out behind her it looks almost like a pair of delicate wings.

“Thank you,” June says, almost a whisper. Paloma smiles broadly.

“What did you mean, ‘we’ll see more of each other soon?’” Ren asks. Paloma spreads her palms open in front of her.

“The little one is not in school, yes?” Ren blinks, eyebrows furrowing defensively.

“No, but—she’s too smart, the other kids don’t—“

“I know, I know. This is no news to Paloma. So you will send her to me to learn. I have never taken an apprentice, and these old bones will not last forever!” (June is taken aback sometimes by how casually others speak and feel about Time; she’s only just gotten used to it passing again and even though it’s not unwelcome she can’t help but feel like it is hurtling towards her). 

Ren seems to relax a bit at Paloma’s words, a hint of pride shining in her eyes when she glances at June.

“What do you think, Junie?” she asks gently. June sits up straight and nods.

“I’d love to, thank you.” Paloma winks at her and then stands and opens the second box with a flourish.

“It is not a birthday without cake! Where are the candles?” Paloma brushes off Ren’s protests that June hasn’t had dinner yet and begins rifling through the kitchen drawers cheerfully while Cassidy laughs herself breathless.

 

—

 

Ren and Cassidy shoo June off to her room while they clean up the dishes, promising to be by in a moment to say goodnight. She changes into her pajamas, turns off the light, and crosses the room to close the window. As she reaches for it, she pauses suddenly; resting on the windowsill, so perfectly placed and unruffled that it looks almost deliberate, is a bright crimson feather. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY that this took so long hff... i don't really have a good explanation because i knew how this chapter was going to go i just kept getting distracted and not writing it down!
> 
> anyway, i hope you all like it! i sat down recently and organized most of my thoughts on where this fic is going to go and i'm veeeeery excited. also as usual, feedback is super super appreciated, and if you see any errors feel free to let me know!! thank you <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> hi thanks for reading!! i have a whole bunch of things that i feel about june??? griffin didn't really linger much on her after she was free of the bubble but i would think that gaining control of an incredibly powerful magic artifact when you're eight and retaining that control for seven years has some lasting effects. i'm going to do more chapters of this i think! i've already started writing them. i have to include cassidy and ren and paloma because how could i not? and i don't want her to live with isaak for this whole fic, so if you were worried about that, have no fear. and i have some ideas past that, even.
> 
> also, i don't know if anyone picked up on it, but the bird trill that wakes june up is supposed to be a vermillion flycatcher call!


End file.
